


Violent Tendencies

by zzoaozz



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 19:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zzoaozz/pseuds/zzoaozz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sabretooth is a cruel, vicious monster capable of terrible violence and not given to remorse or regret.   Nightcrawler is a kind and gentle soul who sees the beauty and the good in everything.  What happens when they collide?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Violent Tendencies

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is a very unusual pairing, but give it a chance.

The world was not meant for people outside the narrow range of height and weight arrogantly touted as normal and Victor Creed was definitely not in that range at 7'6 and over four hundred pounds of bulging muscle. He cursed as he was forced to duck his head as he stepped through the door. He shot a glare at the bouncer taking tickets and received a sympathetic shrug. The swarthy man was not of a privileged build either being almost as large around as he was tall. The mutant grunted and handed him a well worn ID and the five dollar cover. It was worth the aggravation to see the guy do a double take when he held his hand out for the stamp. His claws were formidable and they did not retract like the ones on his feet. A nervous smile and a 'have a good time, sir', later and he was in the redneck club with his own personal security guy shadowing him and reeking of fear. His hand clenched causing thick knuckles to crack loudly. The smell intensified to near panic. They would likely be short one bouncer before the line dancing lessons were over. He chuckled low in the back of his throat and dropped into a seat near the dance floor.

A bleach blond waitress trotted over all but spilling out of her tank top. No fear scent on this one, she was what he thought of as a 'Good Ole Gal'. She no doubt lived in a trailer not too far away, maybe had a kid or two, fridge full of beer. He knew her kind, she could cook a fine meal, fuck like a pro, whip a man and young-uns into shape with a tongue sharper than a knife, and shoot a nose hair off a drug cop at sixty yards. Her kind did not care if a man was human, mutant, or something else entirely so long as he was packing a big one and brought home a regular check. She had sized him up as having money to burn and a big thirst, which equaled big tips. As long as the tips flowed, she would laugh at his jokes, sit on his knee, and flaunt her assets shamelessly.

He gave her a smile, mouth closed no need to flash the fangs and get people worked up and handed her two hundred dollar bills. "First one's for you, gal, I'm drinking the second. Bring me a pitcher of whatever shit's on tap and keep it coming." He nodded at her cheerful agreement and turned an amber eye to the dance floor. A line came to him out of an old Eagles song and he sang in a surprisingly pleasant voice:

"Same old dancers in the same old shoes,  
Some habits that you just can't lose,  
There's no telling what a man might do,  
After the thrill is gone."

The crowds were always the same in these places. Girls dressed to reveal more than they hid danced suggestively. They drew the hard eyes of the predators circling the room like a pack of wolves. Then there were the lonely ones with empty eyes desperate for any contact no matter how shallow or brief. Everywhere were the burn outs and wash outs looking for their next fix or the next drink or the next obsession to save them from themselves. The cheaters moved around the edges of the room as well searching for some echo of the past, a brief spark to recall what had once been, pale circles where their wedding bands should be, clothing just a little too new, cologne just a little to expensive. Easy marks for the female hunters who were. if anything, more aggressive than the males. Scattered amongst them were a few older people, smiling into their drinks, gazing at the younger ones that might have been them a handful of years back.

Those old timers got to him sometimes. All of them were younger than him. Heck, most of them were younger than his youngest daughter. Only three of his sixteen children had been human. He had watched over them from as close a distance as he dared, as he did the mutant ones, watched them grow old and die. He didn't remember now if he had felt sad at the time. Decades numbed the pain. He had one living human child, he was in his forties or maybe even older, but as far as Victor was concerned, he did not exist. He was the only child he had ever fathered who had turned on him and turned in a big way. He wanted all mutants to be destroyed as vehemently as Magneto wanted all humans destroyed.

"Idiots," he growled out loud.

"Finally cracked, Hairball? Talkin' to yourself in public will getcha hauled off."

Victor looked up balefully but did not twitch so much as a muscle as the Canadian X-Man dropped down into a chair beside him. Inwardly though, he cursed himself for not smelling the man. He had been lost in thought and taken by surprise. Now he had to revise his usual tactics to try and maintain the upper hand. His eyes fell on his waitress navigating their way and he considered what she would do in his situation. Why she would honey and sugar him to death while dropping poison daggers with every word.

He kept his voice bored and easy going. "Bring the runt a pitcher too, sugar." She gave him a wink and a nod and hustled off.

"You ain't gonna fight?"

"Nah." He waved a dismissive hand at the shorter mutant.

"Why not?"

"Bored. You?"

"Babysittin'."

Victor shifted his eyes over to the dark haired mutant to see if he was joking. He looked utterly annoyed and put upon. He was dead serious. He laughed.

"It ain't funny."

"Yeah it is."

Logan grunted scowling into the glass of beer the waitress sat in front of him. He sighed and looked up. Bobby, Marie, Kitty, and Jubilee were dancing in a group in front of the band. Pietre was kind of standing there shuffling around, apparently the big Russian did not dance and the others were not taking no for an answer. It could be worse, he could be out there with them. He'd drink one with the devil himself rather than look like an idiot out there pretending he did not know he had not an ounce of rhythm.

"How come you're the babysitter, runt?" He was actually curious.

"I lost a bet."

"Yeah?"

"He cheated."

"Gambit no need to cheat to beat you, Wolvie." A playful voice cut through the din as a slender, auburn haired man danced through the crowds to sit on his other side. "Who is your friend, Ami."

"We ain't friends." It would have been a fair contest as to which voice held more venom.

"Oh?" A playful smirk decorated the handsome mutant's face. Dark glasses covered his eyes, but Victor could have sworn he saw a glint even through them. "You looked so cozy, I thought maybe he was an old flame. Gambit wonder if he should be jealous."

Logan spluttered in outrage.

Victor just shrugged. "I prefer to wake up beside something that ain't butt ugly."

A beautiful laugh rang out drawing admiring glances from the crowd as the young man leaned into his personal space sending his soft hair sliding provocatively over his bare arm. "Oh really? Gambit is intrigued."

"LeBeau?" Wolverine's voice was not amused, "back off."

"Jealous, eh?" Victor laughed again, the Canucklehead was to ignorant to realize the pretty one was hot for him.

He tuned out their banter as his now crowded table grew more so. A male had seated himself quietly opposite him. He looked more than a little out of place here. He was one of those mutants that had no choice in looking human. His skin was a dark, dusky blue and his glossy black hair did not cover sharply pointed ears. Even though this bar was mutant friendly, he was obviously feeling self conscious. He hunched down in his baggy trench coat and kept his gaze on the table. Even his hands were hidden under the table, folded in his lap most likely, He had the oddest scent, earth, incense, and the faintly sulfuric smell of brimstone.

"Who are you?"

The blue mutant looked up at him meeting his eyes without flinching and smiled in a friendly way, "I am Kurt Wagner, though in the Munich Circus they called me the Incredible Nightcrawler."

His voice carried a heavy German accent though he spoke fluent English. He had a mouth full of sharp curving teeth that put his own canines to shame. "You're a circus freak?"

Logan and Gambit both grew abruptly silent and he could smell their anger. He grinned. Pissing other mutants off made his day. Unfortunately, the German was not as touchy. Kurt visibly brightened at the question, "No. I was an acrobat! I worked the high wire, parallel bars, the swing, all the various tricks and did some of the juggling and tumbling acts too!"

Sabretooth blinked at him. "You had fun doing that shit?"

"Yes, it made the children so happy, you see."

Actually, that he did see. He had taken his from time to time to the circus or fair or some shebang, there was a light in their eyes, an innocence in their joy that made even someone as jaded as him see things in a new way. The blue guy had the same look in his bright yellow eyes as the kids did. "How old are you?"

He did not miss the startled look on Gambit's face or the suddenly suspicious look in Wolverine's as he engaged in polite conversation. He would have laughed at them, but it was more fun watching them squirm. He did know how to function in society, he just chose not to. Like the old joke ran, 'where does a thousand pound gorilla sit? Anywhere it wants.'

"I am not truly sure. I was abandoned at an orphanage. That was in seventy-four and-"

Victor sat back sliding a glass of beer over to the German and listening to him chat animatedly. He watched him take a sip and then make the face all Germans did when tasted weak American pisswater beer. He chuckled and let him rattle on, amused at the way Logan was chafing over it. Whenever he seemed about to lapse into silence he asked another question or made a comment to stir him back up. He barely registered when Gambit got bored and went off to dance. At last the beer hit Wagner and he excused himself.

Logan attacked immediately wanting to know what he was doing. He played dumb. "What are you bleating about moron?"

"Why are you talking to him like that?

"Cause I want to."

"Why would you want to?"

He leaned in getting in the shorter man's face, "whatcha going to do about it, Runt? Ain't no law against talkin'."

"You're still an enemy of the X-Men, don't be talking to the new members."

Victor smiled, his 'fangs flashing, shit flying, things are going to die' smile. "I think the time for talking is over," and stood up looming over the X-Man

Wolverine was out of his chair and tensed for the swing with admirable speed. You could have knocked him over with a feather when Victor reached out a hand to someone behind him. "Wanna dance, Wagner?"

Kurt hesitated studying Logan's stiff back but nodded shyly, "okay." There were more than a few same sex couples on the floor so they would only be conspicuous not earth-shakingly shocking. He gave an odd look at his friend when he heard him make a choked noise. "Logan?"

"He's fine. Let's go show them kids how it's done," Victor purred. He memorized The Wolverine's face as he breezed past hoarding it like a treasure he could hold onto the next time the world came crashing down.

Victor could dance, all his exes had to give him that. He swept onto the floor pulling the slender man into an easy embrace and falling into the rhythm of the music. Kurt had an unusual body, flexible to the point of boneless, lithe and graceful as a reptile, yet with an underlying strength he could feel. He let his hands play over the man's body freely. He had always been bisexual, trisexual really because he would try anything once. This mutant was attractive and had a sweet and innocent nature that drew him like a moth to a flame. Oh he had tumbled his share of Good Ole Gals and even high society preps out looking for a thrill but it was the country bumpkins and church mice and librarians of the world that lit his fire. Maybe it was the cat in him that liked to see something tiny and trembling in his big paws.

He pulled Wagner closer until their bodies were pressed together moving in unison with surprising ease. He heard the soft, deep voice from somewhere near the center of his chest, "You are so tall."

"Yep, does it bother you?"

"No, forgive me for saying this, but it is like in the circus when I dance with?" He trailed off embarrassed but Victor guessed.

"A bear- lion maybe?"

Kurt chuckled nervously, "yes, both of those, but you are good dancer, very good. You are also much closer than the animals."

"You noticed?" he teased as Kurt looked up into his face. He seemed confused and a little flustered and that made him want to purr.

Kurt licked his lips nervously and his tongue was crimson red a startling and compelling contrast to the dusky skin. "I have never danced so closely to a man."

"Do you like it?"

"Yes, I think so. Is that wrong?"

"I don't know nothing about right and wrong, seems to me it depends on who you ask."

"There is a higher good, a higher law. God's law."

"Does it say in there 'thou shalt not dance with a man?' I think I missed that part of the movie."

Kurt laughed hiding the hiss that crept out at the end in the massive chest in front of him, "no it does not say such a thing."

Victor liked that, liked it a lot. He brought his hand up and stroked it through the shiny black hair pausing to draw a fingertip along the elven curve of his ear. Kurt grew still in his arms keeping his face against the cotton t-shirt. He was tense but he did not pull away. That was a good sign. Victor was a patient hunter but a relentless one. He might slow down but he never gave ground once he took it. He spoke softly keeping his voice light and non-threatening, "so is some girlfriend or boyfriend going to come tell me to get my hands off their guy?"

"No, I have only my friends, the X-Men."

"Well, I think you got a friend outside the X-Men now."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Another slow caress of the ear and Kurt shuddered in his arms.

"Are you not the enemy?" His accent grew more pronounced.

"I fought for Magneto because he paid me. I fight when I need money or I'm bored. I don't care much about sides. I guess that makes me a bad person, least that's what they tell me."

"All people have good and bad in them," Kurt looked up at him earnestly, "goodness lies in not giving in to evil because it is easier."

"You trying to save what's left of my poor old soul?"

"Maybe,"Kurt looked away nervously.

Victor laughed softly but did not bother telling his companion that he was wasting his time on such a vain attempt. Instead he swept him from one song to another keeping him lost in the music and the rhythm of movement. Only when Logan physically separated them to say the bar was closing did he let go, but not before he pressed a small note into the blue mutant's hand.

He stepped away, his hand lingering just a moment too long in Kurt's as he left him with a smile that held very little of his normal sneer. He walked out without another word, sparing an insolent wave at the waitress who favored him with a tired but heartfelt smile and a 'thank you come again.'

Nightcrawler opened the paper as soon as he was in the van and the others were chatting away and paying no attention to him. On it in an almost painful looking handwriting was a phone number. Then below it a simple, 'Call me tomorrow.' He tucked it quickly into his coat pocket when he felt eyes upon him and the barrage of questions began. 

It took Kurt seven times to dial the phone, he would get down to the last number and hang it up. Finally, shifting nervously from foot to foot, he managed to enter the entire number. It was answered on the first ring and deep, gravelly voice drawled out a 'Hello Wagner' that made him shiver. He sat down in a straight backed chair twining his tail in and out of the rungs.

"Why did you want me to call you?" 

Victor stretched lazily on the bed, "'cause I wanted to hear your voice." 

"Why would you want to do that?"

"Oh I don't know. Why don't you come to dinner with me tonight and we'll try to figure it out?" 

"Dinner?" His tail lashed around almost knocking the lamp off the table. 

"Mmm Hmm, dinner. I know a place with great steaks, mutant friendly, nice pool tables." 

"Dancing?" His tail came up and slapped his face at the foolishly hopeful tone of voice. 

"You know it. It probably would not be a good idea for me to come pick you up, so I'll meet you in front of the post office at eight."

"Okay, see you then." 

"It's a date." 

Kurt's eyes widened as the impact hit him, it was a date, he had just made a date with Sabretooth. Logan had told him many stories about the other mutant last night and Storm had added her own frightening run in with him. Still though, it had felt good when he had held him as they danced. He sat down on the edge of his bed and rubbed a three fingered hand over his face. This was probably wrong on so many levels. He pulled out his well worn rosary and prayed for guidance. He rocked a little as he did. His body was always in constant motion, it was part of the nature of his unique mutation. He remained in meditation until the grandfather clock in the hallway below sounded seven. 

He owned very little in the world and in truth needed very little. Xavier had taken him in and provided the food that had always seemed in short supply in the bombed out church that had been his home before. He had a roof overhead that did not leak, and friends, and even a room with furniture of his own. The clothes he had brought with him had been replaced with some specially designed to accommodate his tail. He looked at them thoughtfully then chose jeans and a dark red shirt. He threw his old trench coat on then hesitated and left it off. It was not like they could possibly hide their differences, He hissed a soft laugh at the thought and got dressed. The one thing he could not do to fit in was wear shoes. His uniquely shaped feet simply would not fit comfortably. He combed his black hair for all the good it would do. It had grown longer but it still stuck up in spiky curls. 

He grinned into the mirror, razor sharp teeth flashing white against the navy of his skin. "I am primping like a schoolgirl." 

*Bamph* To the gate of the mansion. *Bamph* An alleyway behind a strip mall. *Bamph* The roof of the post office. *Bamph* He stood on the appointed corner trying to ignore the way the few people passing by stared at him. He kept his tail coiled tightly around him and was just regretting leaving his trench coat when an older model Cadillac pulled up to the curb. The door opened and Victor waved him inside. 

He slid into the comfortable, very roomy interior with a sigh of relief. The windows were darkly tinted so he felt secure again. 

"Shoulda had you meet me someplace more out of the way. Didn't mean to make you nervy." It was an apology of a sort.

"I am fine now. It is still very new to me not to hide my appearance." 

"Hey look on the bright side, yours is small enough to hide, right? I'd have to disguise myself as a tree or something."

His tail straightened stiffly twitching at the tip, then he dissolved in giggles at the mental image of Creed wearing a tree costume, lifting it up and running when no one was looking then freezing as they turned. "Oh I am so sorry, he gasped, it was just the funny mental image, I did not mean to offend." He looked over at the driver anxiously only to find an easy grin on his face.

"I ain't that easy to offend. I like to hear you laugh." 

"Even though I hiss?" 

"Especially because you hiss." 

"You confuse me." He answered honestly. 

"We'll figure it out." 

"You keep saying that," he pointed out. 

"Slide over here a minute." 

He was puzzled but saw no reason not to obey. He scooted over to the center of the bench seat. Victor's big arm slid across him clicking a seat belt into place. 

"You don't look as hard headed as I am." 

He was touched. "Thank you, Victor." A rumbling chuckle was his answer. 

He jumped as hand came down to rest on his knee. He would normally have shied away from it, but it was warm and solid and real, something to center on in the chaos of his thoughts. He looked at the hand a long time, other people's hands fascinated him. Cautiously he moved his own to hover just above it. 

"You can touch." 

He started again, but did not hesitate. He brought his hand down on Victor's. His was much smaller, but the fingers were thicker, clumsier looking even though they were far from it. His own claws were flatter, more like thick blue fingernails than the long, curving, cat like claws on the big hand. Fur grew down onto the top of his hand, almost to the fingers. He stroked it surprised by how silky it was. It was a colour somewhere between sandy and tawny. The same colour was present in his long mane of hair along with other colours he realized. He caught a long lock and pulled it over beside the hand fur. It was full of colours, gold, silver, straw, all shades of blonde from strawberry to ash to platinum. 

"You like it?" 

"Yes, so many colours and it's soft." 

"Say that first time you wake up tangled up in it in the morning." 

He started to reply then realized that the sentence could be taken two ways. His yellow eyes moved to his companion and the rather wicked smirk told him that he was correct to be so suspicious. "You are teasing?" he asked uncertainly.

"Maybe a little." 

The hand on his knee moved up his denim clad thigh then back again to squeeze his knee. He shivered a little. "I have not ever done this before," he confessed.

"Gone out with a man?" 

"Gone out at all." His wayward tail had crept up the back of the seat and was sliding around Victor's upper arm clinging to the powerful biceps. 

"Slide over here, just little closer." 

He scooted a little, his tail uncoiling as the arm it was wrapped around raised and slid around his shoulder tucking him against a warm, solid side. 

"There, that's better."

He simply nodded because he could not speak for the pounding in his head. His mind seemed to lock onto and magnify everything about the moment. Victor's hair tickled his cheek. He was wearing some wonderfully spicy, earthy cologne, very subtle. He was comfortable to lean on too, the curve of his hip making a perfect resting place for his arm and the heavy muscles of his chest pillowed the side of his head as the curve of the shoulder cradled the back of his head. It was better. In fact, it would be very nice to just curl up right there and savor the feeling of being sheltered. It seemed far too soon when the Caddy pulled into a parking spot and Victor unfastened his seatbelt.

Five and a half hours, two fine porterhouses with all the trimmings, and three six packs of real German stout later, Kurt found himself dancing on a small dimly lit floor in front of a Jukebox. In the warm buzz of the beer his body acquired a mind of its own and that mind was only on one thing at the moment. He pressed his body close to the larger one. The friction of denim on denim as their thighs and hips rocked together to the low bass throb of Slow Ride was delicious, unbearably intimate. They had danced every dance moving closer until their bodies were pressed tight, arms wrapped around each other, hot breath fanning overly sensitive ears. Large hands played over his back, one had slid up under his shirt and felt hot as the sun on his skin. He did not have to think twice as a rough voice whispered an offer of 'my place?' against his ear.

Victor was in serious trouble. He was well aware that he was trespassing on X-territory and that Logan would be on his ass the minute he found out. He was not actually concerned about hurting or being hurt by the runt. He liked playing with him, pushing him, liked knowing that there was someone out there who could give as much as he took. What he did care about was putting the shy little German in a position of choosing between a lover and a friend. He took care of his lovers, all of them, even long after they had moved on with their lives. He took care of his kids the same way. He would never, ever be like the bastard that sired him. He might be an animal, but his perfectly normal human father had been a monster. 

He was also tight as a bowstring with the effort of controlling his inner beast. He kept the animal under control when he could, though he doubted anyone realized that or even cared. It wanted Wagner, wanted to throw him down right here on the car seat and take the lithe body in every way possible. Creed had no illusions about himself. He was not a nice guy, more animal than man, barely human. He knew what he was and accepted it pragmatically, he chose his battles with his demon carefully. He had never seen any use in wasting energy on a fight he could not win. His sex life was one battlefield where man and beast fought constantly and viciously for control. He had an iron will when he chose to apply it, and he had not known a moment's fear since the day he had woken up free from his father's chains with bloody hands and a full belly and the free wind caressing a body that stubbornly insisted on healing no matter how much he wanted to die. His bed was the one place in his life where he knew gentleness and compassion. He had never had a lover leave him, it was always him walking out the door. The reason was always the same. He left his lovers and his children only daring to watch over them from a distance because sooner or later his enemies caught up to him, and the beast grew restless within him. He was not his father, nothing like him, and he would never hurt them, or allow them to hurt for his sake. He wanted to love the man beside him, to know him inside and out, to feel just for a while that he had something worth keeping. He pushed away those thoughts. Too much thinking never got him anywhere but in trouble. His hand caressed the sturdy thigh beside him. 

He jumped a little when a spade shaped tail slid up under his shirt caressing his belly. He grinned, "you can do a lot with that tail huh?" 

"Yes, a lot. It is very prehensile." He trailed the blunt point down the washboard muscles of his stomach, "very sensitive to touch. Does it bother?" 

"Nope." He caught the tail and slid it down his stomach and then down his jeans to the straining flesh in his jeans. "I don't mind one bit."

Kurt caught his breath as his wayward tell cupped the bulge squeezing it then caressing it. His hand crept over of its own volition to displace the tail. The sharp intake of breath from his companion was gratifying. "How far until we are there?" 

"This is the driveway." Victor's voice was a little hoarse. 

Kurt sat up paying attention to their location. A wrought iron gate swung open before them then closed behind them. Ahead lay an old mansion that must once have been palatial. Now it looked weathered, still sturdy and somehow stately, but lived in, comfortable. The yard and grounds were a wild tangle of overgrown vegetation, the paint faded, but not peeling, the wrap around porch littered with comfortable looking chairs and rockers and tables littered with empty beer bottles and various odds and ends. He noted with curiosity that every bottle has the label peeled, neatly shredded and stuffed inside. Homemade looking quilts and comforters were tossed over the arms of seats creating bright splashes of colour. A lamp glowed in each of the front windows, tucked behind heavy curtains. It looked like an old southern mansion displaced in time and space. His eyes moved up to the roof and widened. A row of intricately wrought crosses adorned the high peaked metal roof. It took him a moment to recognize them as lightning rods. Once he did he leaned up against the windshield scanning the house. There were crosses above the door, and in the center of each window frame. The same wrought iron crosses and to the right of the main room was a large rounded addition with stained glass panes. 

"It has chapel?"

"Yeah, it's pretty cool, pews and stained glass and a cross and everything. It was there when I bought it. Looks pretty when the sun shines in. Does it bother you?"

"No, I am Catholic, I used to live in a church that was ruined in the war when I was in Germany. It is a comfort to be near a sanctified place." 

"Well I don't know if it's sanctified, but I left it like it was so it ain't defiled or anything like that."

"Why did you choose a home with so much religious background if you believe in nothing." 

Victor shrugged, "Never thought about it really. It's big, roomy, overgrown, out of the way. I can be alone here. You're the first company I've had here." He parked the car right in front of the porch in the grass and got out holding a hand out to help the other mutant. 

Kurt was flattered by the idea of being the first one to be invited to Victor's home. His tail flicked about curiously as he was led up to the heavy wooden door. Victor did not seem inclined to let go of his hand and he did not mind that at all. The inside was as old fashioned as the outside from hardwood floors to heavy walnut furniture. There was not much furniture really so it was mostly just open space. The lights were ornate brass lamps that had been converted to electricity at some point in time. The walls were painted a golden honey colour that picked up the lights and created a gentle, inviting warmth in the main room. A large couch, big enough to seat Creed, the Hulk, and Juggernaut in his opinion sat in the middle of the room facing a fireplace. An overstuffed easy chair was turned to face out a side window. An expensive looking desk with a roll top held a small stack of mail and a couple of magazines. A nice stereo system was set up against a bare wall. There were four doors leading out of the room and a split staircase winding up to second floor. The only thing detracting from the genteel feeling of the place were the weapons scattered through the room. His eyes moved over the knives, clubs, maces, and axes that were laid with a carelessness that suggested that they were well used tools rather than decoration. 

"Guess I should have put those up somewhere, huh?" 

"It is hard to reconcile the man I danced with tonight to the reports I hear about you." 

"I'm dangerous. I ain't lying to you. I kill, that's what I know and what I do." 

"But you are more than that." 

"Sometimes maybe." 

"But you don't show it to anyone. You hide it- to protect yourself, no that isn't you- to protect others?" 

He frowned staring out the window for a long moment. 

"I have offended, I did not mean too." Kurt slid over to him anxiously putting his hand on his back noticing the way the muscles bulged under the thin fabric of his t-shirt.

"Nah, I ain't offended, just thinking about something." He turned around to face Kurt and pulled him into his arms. "I won't hurt you. I won't let anyone else hurt you either." He leaned down taking Kurt's mouth in a slow, sweet kiss. The first kiss should always be sweet, one to remember always.

Kurt's eyes widened the his lashes drifted down as the strong, sure lips taught his things they had never even imagined. His arms came up to wind around the thick neck. He was lifted up as the feral mutant straightened and carried him to one of the doors. It opened on a short hallway. He shouldered open the door at the end never breaking the kiss. He took in the contents of the room through a delicious fog of desire, an enormous, solid looking bed with more of the pretty quilts twisted and tangled in the middle as if by a restless sleeper, a huge wardrobe in the corner with a mirrored door, and his trademark costume and fur cape flung carelessly over a chair. He was lowered onto the bed and then those big, clawed hands were moving over his body touching and exploring places no one else ever had before. His clothes seemed to disappear magically and he almost giggled as he realized he was not the only one. Then Victor's mouth moved down his body, the rough tongue stroking him intimately and all he could do was moan and writhe beneath the onslaught.

Kurt woke slowly to warm sunlight sloping across his skin and a riot of birdsong. He was looking out a huge multipaned window into a garden. Willow fronds blew in a gentle wind setting shadows to dancing inside the room. A trellis sagged beneath the weight of a tangled mass of honeysuckle and lilac. The window was cracked open at the bottom and a bee buzzed at the screen. The sweet smell of the flowers filled the room mingling with their own scents, the musky smell of sex, the sharp dangerous smell of a feline predator's den, his own smell. Normally he hated that sulfurous odor that clung to him from the place he traveler through when he ported, but somehow it blended in with the other scents here in a way that pleased and relaxed him. The heavy arm that rested across his hip and the solid body pressed to his back made him feel safe and protected. He smiled as his tail caressed a thigh that was almost as large as he was. A soft purr behind him startled him for a moment, then a warm hand slid up to his belly and stroked it gently. 

"Victor, this is so nice." 

"Nice?" He chuckled softly and kissed Kurt behind the ear. 

"Nice, peaceful, safe, I feel content- Welcome- I don't have the right word." 

Victor nuzzled his neck thoughtfully, "you fit this lair. It compliments you." 

He turned over to face his companion and winced as sore flesh pulled. 

"Hurt bad?" 

"Not too bad." He smiled up into amber eyes that glowed like gold in the sunlight. "You know so much more about this than I do, I am sorry if I disappointed you."

"You didn't. You were pretty damn good for a virgin." He grinned toothily at the way Kurt ducked his head and hissed softly through his teeth. "I think you're the first male I let take me in return. It was more fun than I thought it would be though." He could feel the heat radiating from his little lover's cheeks. "You must be a natural." He laughed as the tail came up to hide his face. "You know, it turns me on like mad when you get all shy." He caught his chin and tipped it up to claim the navy lips in a hungry kiss. He felt the acrobat's body meld to him.

The sunlight and shadow from the garden dappled their bodies, one blending into shadow and one into sun, dusky blue and tawny gold skin camouflaged by nature and an errant mutation neither one had asked for. They were polar opposites in so many ways, but in this one moment and in this one place they meshed beautifully and no one knew where they were or what they did to pass judgment on their actions. It could not last, but while it did Kurt Wagner and Victor Creed were of one mind to hold onto it and let time flow around them just as slow as it wanted to flow.


End file.
